John Abraham is transformed into John Wick for Vedaa, Nikkhil Advani’s film about caste inequities. Prone to potent silences and sudden moves, Abraham’s Abhimanyu is the mythic core of a fantasy about liberation from an unjust system attributed to divinity but created by humans.
Vedaa is named after a feisty young Dalit woman in a small town in Rajasthan. Vedaa (Sharvari) reasons that the best way to counter the leering of the upper-caste community leader’s brother Suyog (Kshitij Chauhan) is to learn boxing. At the very least, she can defend herself if she is attacked or raped (both strong possibilities).
Former Army soldier Abhimanyu becomes Vedaa’s “Coach sir” in more ways than one. When Suyog and his elder brother Jitender (Abhishek Banerjee) perceive that Vedaa’s family has crossed the line that separates Dalits from the upper castes, Vedaa turns to Abhimanyu for help. Abhimanyu’s background in anti-terrorist operations results in the kind of superbly choreographed action that isn’t usually found in films about caste atrocities.
There’s no shying away in Aseem Arrora’s script from the horrors that await Vedaa, just as there is no plausible outcome of her rebellion. Vedaa joins a long list of films which, rather than presenting a lived experience of caste, not only dumb down this form of social stratification but also offer simplistic – and untenable – solutions.
In recent times, Dalit filmmakers such as Pa Ranjith, Mari Selvaraj and Neeraj Ghaywan have memorably explored the consequences of normalised violence. In Vedaa, the gaze is always from the outside looking in, which turns the Dalit characters into victims ripe for scalping, waiting for an upper-caste saviour to rescue them.
Perhaps Advani and Abraham – who has co-produced Vedaa – just wanted to make a slick, pulsating action thriller that would showcase Abraham’s physical prowess. In this aspect, the movie scores, especially in its pre-interval section. Advani deploys cinematographer Malay Prakash’s desaturated colour palette and editor Maahir Zaveri’s tight editing in creating a nerve-shredding milieu where a word out of place can mean death.
Some of the detailing is revealing. Even after being badly thrashed by Suyog and his posse, Vedaa makes sure that she drinks water only from the container that has been set aside for Dalits.
The movie slackens in the post-interval sections and then progressively loses its way. The mood shifts over the 150-minute runtime from tense to risible.
As a minor army led by Jitender hunts down Vedaa and Abhimanyu, the action sequences get even more elaborate. Characters refuse to die after being severely thrashed. Bullets enter bodies but refuse to do their work. Vedaa belatedly remembers the protections offered by the Constitution.
The three core performances are consistently committed despite the screenplay’s slide into meaninglessness. Sharvari sheds her initial chirpiness to channel her heroine’s fighting spirit. Vedaa’s boxing training proves barely useful, but she does know how to cry a river when needed.
John Abraham is on point as the laconic hero who’s unwilling to accept the injustice meted out to Vedaa. I believe in outright war rather than jousting, Abhimanyu tells Jitender – and we believe him.
Abhishek Banerjee deftly plays the venal Jitender, whose progressive veneer conceals contempt for Vedaa and her ilk. The movie does a fine job of revealing the depths of hatred. But it can’t come up with a sound resolution that doesn’t involve the same violence that Vedaa deals with on a daily basis.
